


Spinning

by supercalifragili



Series: Healings [5]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, idk just really sad liam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 06:57:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3199739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supercalifragili/pseuds/supercalifragili
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a scarecrow in the middle of the cornfield he walks around every morning at exactly 6:32am, the stripes of its shirt are covered in dirt and stains, mostly excrements. Torn, it stands there. He looks at it and think. The thing is that is not a scarecrow anymore, it's just a puppet; birds fly by and they picket its body. He can't breathe and maybe he needs to get inside. A scarecrow that doesn't scare it's not a scarecrow anymore.</p><p>Or Liam is sad and Zayn tries to help him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spinning

_I'm sorry I'm shit at this. Probably I suck at that too. Most definitely I won't do that. I can't do it, I won't do it, I shouldn't do it._  Always the same excuses, maybe what he needed were a pair of balls and a little bit of faith too.

-

The lights blink on his shirt stained with wine. Usually Liam watches TV, most of the time he doesn't pay attention to it.

"--Get over it, it's not the end"

Fucking hell it is.

-

He looks at the stoves, he should cook something or he could end up dead, he still doesn't know how to, he side eyes the fridge and takes a step towards it, as if he could fit inside and freeze himself to death.

-

There's a scarecrow in the middle of the cornfield he walks around every morning at exactly 6:32am, the stripes of its shirt are covered in dirt and stains, mostly excrements. Torn, it stands there. He looks at it and think. The thing is that is not a scarecrow anymore, it's just a puppet; birds fly by and they picket its body. He can't breathe and maybe he needs to get inside. A scarecrow that doesn't scare it's not a scarecrow anymore.

-

He should stop taking money from the bank, but he finds himself there, no actual reason. With a balance of a number he can’t even eye without getting an headache, he doesn't know what the hell is wrong with him. He could give those away and leave. He doesn't know where, still.

-

He wakes up, it's still early in the morning, the red and black of an early winter rise. Shadows of incongruous shapes painted on white walls make his heart stutter and then race. The tiredness caves in again.

-

The clock reads three in the morning, he stares at the neon red and sighs. Two months at the same time in the same spot on his bed, he wakes up.

-

He thinks about the word strong, pulling strings in his chest, tight and overwhelmingly- too big to visualize. Strong. Vulnerable. Fake too.

Because what would he do without mastering how to work a mask that doesn't threaten to get off his face when something stings hard at his sides and what's inside his ribcage.

-

It's a gut feeling, he can't scratch it, can't avoid it; he can't do anything to stop it until it goes away by itself.

It's wrenching his insides and it makes him lose breath for a while, it settles there deep within him. He doesn't know if it's worry, fear or unsteadiness; it just doesn't go away. Or maybe it's not meant to go away.

He sincerely hopes it disappears- dissipates- if he’s being realistic with himself. He hopes it'll go away soon. His stomach clenches, it doesn't send spikes of pain nor nausea; it's just a dark plunging wave threatening to drag him away and he can't do nothing but look- wait for it to crash over his body, to take him away in a rush. He thinks that if he would have enough will power he'd be able to step back a little- none of that happens.

So he just turns back to look at the current, at one point he just wishes it'll take over him and be done with it, however, he doesn't want it to because everything would be over, how indecisive can he be?

 

 

+

Zayn finds Liam like this at three in the morning, eyes bloodshot red and pen in his hands. Zayn is good with this, when Liam runs for the brick wall, when Liam doesn’t sleep and closes the doors to his room and sings till his voice is strained, till the piano doesn’t echo in their place anymore… He goes for it.

Zayn can pick Liam up, he can throw him over his shoulders and carry him too- he doesn’t. Liam is a kinaesthetic type of person, he needs touch, he needs grounding, he needs to know where he is and why. Zayn sits with him on the carpet and reads lines of words written on paper, he reads the stiffness in them, he reads sadness and nostalgia.

 _I think-_ Zayn doesn’t like it when Liam thinks during the night. That’s why he lets him go running till his legs give out, till all of his head clouds with desire and love and all the sweet things Liam is.

Zayn thinks his life is good, Liam takes care of him and loves him. Zayn does the same. There’s some sort of complementary relation in the way they move with each other and he’s okay with that, he’s always been fine. Liam is happy most of the day, other days he’s not and he searches for the bad, he goes on his phone and types. He gnaws on the skin of his thumb till rawness makes it bloom of a deep red and he reads and reads till his eyes sting of tears. And it's easy loving Liam. Why wouldn't it be?  _But how would you know which Liam did you fall in love with?_

Is the Liam on stage the same as the Liam offstage? He can't get to it sometimes, but there's something in the Liam offstage Zayn doesn't fail to recognize. Liam seems to play a part in some show when he's out there, the awkward and timid disappears for a while. Liam switches and becomes of One Direction instead of Liam himself. There’s a different person then and it's frustrating when Zayn can't recognize even a single trait of his Liam there. The difference is so contrasting, Zayn sees the two Liam clash in certain moments. He watches him while he sits on the ramp and loses himself a little, there, Zayn sees how Liam tries to be different, tries to separate himself from the apprehension and the thinking.

Liam is a worried warrior. He fights with swords and arrows, feet stripped of sandals and wearing a ruined armour. He doesn't breathe much. When Liam can’t stop and the currents are carrying him away, Zayn takes his worries away from him. Zayn doesn’t know how to swim and he’s scared that if he were not to stop him in time, the waters would swallow him too.

“How would you sing this?” he stirs Liam from the stillness of his body

“I won’t”

“You’re still going to, you wrote the key” Zayn watches the twitch on Liam’s lips, the roundness of his cheeks pale and fleshy and he bites at it, he bites at the ‘lost’ on Liam’s face

“I don’t know…  _Loopholes of love/sending crashing waves on statue’s pose/livid bruises of marked creases/love, will you lift me from sudden slumber?_ ” he tries to hum lowly after the words

Lyrics like this don’t ever make it to their CDs. Sometimes they lie about the sound of their music being more mature, because then this would be part of it, the insecurity and fear and pain and solitude of one’s mind.

 _But you’re a boyband! -_ Fuck it.

“Do you wanna play for me?”

Liam nods, he helps him stand, his body heavy and unsure and he sits with him on the piano bench. Zayn looks at him breathe, eyes closed and fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Zayn doesn’t urge him on, he waits till the first note sounds and he plays like this till Zayn whispers slow on his ear  _It’s okay, I understand_ and Liam stops, breathes deeply again and when they fall asleep, the wrinkling in his brow isn’t there anymore.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The first part it's things I wrote years ago, idk if they're about myself or idk but like 2013 was my lowest point and somehow it was like that for Liam too, in someway. Idk if I should have tagged Liam's state of mind as depressive, but if anything let me know cause I'm a bit shit at understanding stuff like this. Thanks for reading. Sorry for the sadness, I guess.


End file.
